Time in a Bottle
by foreverHenry919
Summary: While searching a Brooklyn bungalow rented by an elderly woman suspected in the disappearance and possible murder of at least 12 people, Team Morgan makes an astonishing discovery. Neither Jo nor Mike have ever seen anything like this captured light before. But Dr. Henry Morgan has. I do not own "Forever" or any of its characters.


While searching a Brooklyn bungalow rented by an elderly woman suspected in the disappearance and possible murder of at least 12 people, Team Morgan makes an astonishing discovery in the basement. Detectives Jo Martinez and Mike Hanson have never seen anything like this captured light before. But Dr. Henry Morgan has.

vvvv

Instead of dead bodies in the Leticia Downing's basement, Jo and Hanson found 16 large jars with screw-on lids and bale handles like the vintage pickle jars found in old-style general stores. Inside them appeared to be live fireflies of the minutest size dancing in overlapping waves against the sides and lids as if trying to escape.

"Whaddaya make of this?" Hanson asked, tapping the back of his hand against the side of one of the jars.

"I dunno, tiny fireflies?" Jo asked in reply.

Henry drew closer, peering at them where they were placed on three rows of built-in, wooden shelving. Not fireflies, he said to himself. They were much, much smaller than the fireflies he had helped Abraham capture when he was a child. The lights were strangely familiar, though, and he wondered where he had seen them before. It suddenly hit him and his brow furrowed and his mouth hung slightly open. An image of Adam slitting his throat in Zander de Soto's flat and dying and vanishing in a white light came back to him. It was only the second time in his long life that he'd witnessed another Immortal's bright light after a death. Adam was the only other Immortal he'd ever met. Was it possible? Could these jars contain the life lights of others that even the cunning Adam had not discovered? Were these jars crude prisons preventing other Immortals from rebirthing?

"Hey, these things are labeled," Hanson said. He shined his flashlight onto one of the crude labels of white, surgical first aid waterproof tape with a name neatly printed on it in blue ink. "Dennis Burrows 5/1793," Hanson read.

"What does that number mean?" Jo asked, confused. "Something to do with math?"

Yes, Henry silently surmised. Something to do with the beginning of someone else's incredibly long story.

Hanson moved to the next jar then the next, shining his flashlight onto the labels and reading off the names and numbers. "Those are definitely some of the names of our missing or murdered." He stepped back, looking around the dimly lit basement. Three freestanding metal storage lockers placed side by side against the adjacent wall caught his attention and he walked over to inspect them. They had heavy steel doors mounted in a welded frame of six tiers with louvers for ventilation.

He pulled the handle up on one of the 18 compartments and opened it. With blue-gloved hands, he pulled out first a shoebox and opened it, finding a size 7-1/2 pair of women's beige slingback stilletos. Next, he pulled out women's clothing encased in a large zippered bag that had previously provided protection for a sofa pillow. He handed the clothing to Jo, who had been studying the shoes. She put the lid back on the box and took the packaged clothing from him.

"These aren't labeled," Jo said.

"But the compartments have numbers on them," Hanson said as he pulled out compartment after compartment and found similar items inside, some for men, some for women.

Henry hadn't moved from in front of the jars of light. "What is the number on the first compartment you opened?" he asked Hanson.

"Uhhh ... 3/1762," Hanson replied.

Henry's eyes searched the rows of labels until he found a match. "Meredith O'Connor," he said, pointing to the label with her name on it. "And I believe the numbers are actually dates."

"Could be," Jo said. "But those would be some pretty old dates. This is totally weird. We've gotta call this in. Get CSU over here." She handed the shoebox and packaged clothing back to Hanson, who placed them back into the compartment and then he closed it. Jo proceeded to call it in while Henry remained rooted to the spot in front of the jars of light.

If the dates meant what he thought they did, Henry knew that he had finally "met" some more Immortals who were as old as he was but not incredibly ancient like Adam. His heart leapt at the prospect of having friends like himself. As much as he loved his son, Abraham, he had longed for companions like himself whether they understood more about thier immortality or not. But they weren't in any condition to converse with him. How could he explore his theory and release them without bringing any suspicion upon himself?

Jo's phone rang and she answered it. "Martinez ... We're in the basement, come on down." She nodded and said, "Okay." She ended the call and dropped the phone into her jacket pocket. "Change in plans. Reece has ordered us to destroy these." Hanson nodded and the two of them raised their weapons and aimed at the jars.

"No!" Henry cried out, jumping in front of the jars with his arms outstretched. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Move aside, Henry," Jo calmly and coldly told him.

"Yeah," Hanson said just as calmly and just as coldly. "Move aside."

"Please, please don't do this," Henry pleaded. "You must have misunderstood the Lieutenant. Allow me to speak with her, please!" He was fast becoming more and more panicked. It wasn't because destroying the jars would kill those that he surmised were Immortals. It was because his two colleagues had suddenly seemed to take leave of their senses. Reece couldn't possibly have issued such a preposterous order!

"Gonna count to three, Doc," Hanson told him.

"No!" Henry shouted at him. "You're making a big mistake!" He shook his head, confused and dismayed at the out-of-character actions of his two colleagues. Especially Jo.

"Henry ... " Jo said. He shook his head, refusing to move. "Hen-reee ... " He stayed stubbornly rooted to the spot. Jo aimed her weapon directly at his chest, her eyes dark and unfeeling. "Hen-reee, Hen-reee." Hanson added his voice with hers in repeating his name. Henry closed his eyes and kept repeating "No" over and over.

"Henry?" Someone shook him on his arm. "Henry? Henry! Wake up!" Henry startled awake and shouted "No!" as he sat straight up on the couch where he'd fallen asleep.

"Whoa," Abe said, "you must have been having a nightmare."

"Ohhh, thank God!" Henry said, closing his eyes and laughing nervously. "You have no idea." He lowered his legs to the floor, giving Abe room to sit next to him. "It was just awful." He proceeded to tell him about the jars of light, the elderly woman who had apparently entrapped Immortals, Jo's and Hanson's suddenly odd behavior.

"Man!" Abe chuckled. When the shop's entry bell tinkled, he stood up. "Sounds like a Twilight Zone episode. Eh, also sounds like I got a customer."

Henry nodded to him as he disappeared through the door and walked up behind the retail counter. Marveling at how real the dream had been and laughing softly, he walked into the shop and stood beside Abe behind the retail counter. They both smiled and waited patiently while an elderly woman in her mid 80s walked slowly toward them. Hair color pulling a little too blue on her short, silver curls, she clutched a brown shoulder bag to her chest with one hand and used a cane with the other. Although the winds outside were unseasonably brisk that afternoon, the weather did not warrant the thick, wool coat she wore. It so thoroughly obscured her clothing underneath but her thick support hosiery and white sandals were clearly visible. All the while she beamed the most pleasant smile at them and she finally reached the other side of the counter.

"Hello, and welcome to Abe's Antiques," Abe told her. "This is my assistant, Henry." Surprised, Henry's eyebrows flew up and he watched Abe lean closer to the woman and say, "He's kinda new but he's coming along." Abe turned a sly smirk to Henry, who bowed his head, grinning. "How can I help you?" Abe asked her.

"Oh, I do hope so," she creaked at them. "My name is Leticia. Leticia Downing. I was referred to you by the Berkowitz brothers. I'm looking to purchase several large, old style pickle jars."

Their smiles froze on the two men's faces. "Pick, uh, pick-pickle jars?" Abe stammered, his smile flattening out with each utterance.

"Yes," the old lady replied still smiling pleasantly. "I need about a dozen if you have them. They're simply perfect for entrapping fireflies."

Notes:

VINTAGE GENERAL STORE PICKLE JAR DURAGLAS 13"

itm/202642429739

Description of metal storage locker found at

Slight reference to "Forever" TV show S01/E22 The Last Death of Henry Morgan


End file.
